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Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 

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EULOGY,  7^ 


DeliTered  in  the  Chapel  of 


iiE®wii  wira'fffimsirf 'S's 


OS 


MR.  HENRY  SMITH,  f/P^^i^,,,  ,,/»./)//t 


Member  of  the  Senior  Class,  who  died,  December  28, 1820. 


BY  GEORGE  R.  RUSSELL, 
Classmate  of  the  Deceased. 


Omnes  eodem  cogimur :  omniuoi  ifj^ 

Yersatur  urna,  seiius/dMjtt 
3or8  exittira.         ^H^H^^^* 


PROriDEJ^CE, 

Printed  bj  Miller  &  Hutchens,  No.  I,  Market- Square 

d82l. 


.^■' 


^ 


Mr    Russell, 

Sir — As  a  Ccmtnittee  from  the  Senior  Clasa,  we  present  you  their 
most  sincere  thanks,  for  your  appropriate  and  sympathetic  Eulogy  on 
our  late  Glassnaate,  and  again  request  a  copy  for  the  press,  hoping, 
though  you  have  declined  to  grant  a  copy,  that,  upon  farther  delibera- 
tion, you  will  conoply  with  the  reiterated  solicitations  of  the  Class,  and 
gratify  the  wishes  of  the  afflicted  family  of  the  deceased. 
Most  respectfully  yours,  &c. 

LEVI  HAILE, 
AMOS  BINNEY, 
DANIEL  FISHER. 
Brown  University y  March  25,  1821. 


Gentlemen, 

pergonal  feelings  prompted  me  to  give  a  refusal  to  your  request.  My 
inadequate  services  were  amply  rewarded  by  the  approbation  of  my 
Classmates  ;  and,  although  their  appointment  might  consequently  imply 
a  right  to  its  results,  I  hoped  that  the  imperfection  of  the  performance 
would  plead  an  excuse  for  my  denial.  But  your  renewed  solicitations, 
accompanied  with  the  wishes  of  the  afflicted  family  of  the  deceased, 
have  induced  me  to  accept  the  advice  of  friends,  and,  reluctantly,  to 
hand  you  a  copy  of  a  production  little  calculated  to  pass  the  eye  of  the 
critic. 

I  am,  gentlemen,  with  respect,  &c. 

GEORGE  R.  RUSSELL. 
Messrs    Levi  Haile, 
Amos  Binnev, 
vT'  Daniel  Fisher. 

Brown  University,  M^ch  28,  1821- 


TO   THE   AFFLICTED 

MOTHER  AND  RELATIVES 

OF 
THIS   FEEBLE    TRIBUTE    TO    HIS   MEMORY, 

IS  RESPECTFULLY  INSCRIBED^ 
By  their  Humble  Servant, 

GEORGE    R.    RUSSFXry. 


«t 


^ 


ivi534088 


Wften  tlie  jgravebas  closed  over  a  respected an(l  dearly 
beloved  friend,  and  the  first  efTect  of  grief,  that  attended 
his  departure,  is  tranquilized,  it  is  with  mournful  sat- 
isfaction, we  call  his  character  to  remembrance,  and 
check  the  falling:  tear,  by  reflecting  on  the  virtues  with 
which  it  was  adorned  and  dignified.  With  melancholy 
pleasure,  we  dwell  on  the  hours  we  passed  in  his  soci- 
ety ;  on  the  talents,  which  acquired  our  esteem ;  and  on 
the  amiable  qualities,  which  endeared  him  to  us.  The 
thought  that  he  is  happy,  affords  us  consolation  ;  and 
while  we  lisp  his  name  with  veneration,  and  feel  that 
one  of  the  strongest  links  which  bind  us  here  below,  is 
severed,  we  calm  our  broken  spirits,  with  the  hope, 
that  he  has  left  us  for  a  place,  where  sorrow  ceases,  and 
where  the  vexatious  troubles  of  the  world  cannot  molest 
him. 

The  man,  whose  publick  services  have  rendered  his 
name  illustrious,  and  whose  active  exertions  for  the  wel- 
fare of  his  country  have  entitled  him  to  its  gratitude 
and  admiration,  may  afford  an  ample  theme  for  pane- 
gyrick.  The  private  individualj  who  has  revealed  to 
few  the  emotions  of  his  heart,  who  has  kept  within  him- 
self those  qualities  which  draw  respect  and  love,  who, 
to  the  world,  has  apparently  been  wrapt  in  apathy,  and 
whose  cold  exterior  does  not  disclose  the  generous  fire 
which  burns  within  him,  may  present  extensive  subject  of 
encomium,  to  those  who  knew  and  cherished  him.  For 
they  mny  then  expose  the  lender  sensibility  and  deep 
feelings  of  affection,  which  dwelt  in  the  breast  of  the 
departed,  and  of  which,  those,  who  were  but  slightly 
connected  with  him,  had  not  oven  dreamt.     They  may 


d'v' 


show,  !hat  he,  who  passed  through  the  world,  seemingly 
heedless  of  its  frowns  or  caresses.  ^riW  felt  them  deeply^ 
that  he  had  a  soul  which  harboured  all  the  finer  feelings 
of  humanity,  and  that  his  distant  manner  covered  vir- 
tues, well  worthy  the  pen  of  the  eulogist.  Thus,  attention 
may  be  excited  by  novelty,  and  the  interest  of  an  audi- 
ence be  engaged,  by  the  enumeration  of  the  virtues  of 
one,  of  which  they  were  before  ignorant.  But,  arduous 
is  the  task  and  hazardous  the  attempt,  to  eulogize  a 
character,  which  is  well  known  to  those  whom  the 
speaker  is  addressing,  when  they  feel  that  ev^ry  truth 
he  utters,  was  before  familiar  to  them.  And  feeble  must 
the  sketch  appear  to  those  who  have  beheld  the  brilliant 
original. 

We  have  met  together,  to  mourn  the  loss  of  a  re- 
spected fellow-student,  of  an  esteemed  and  beloved 
companion.  Of  one  whose  distinguished  talents  com- 
manded our  highest  regard,  and  whose  open  and  gener- 
ous disposition  acquired  ©ur  love  and  admiration.  The 
day  of  his  life  had  but  dawned,  when  the  slow  yet  sure 
precursor  of  death,  seized  upon  his  slender  frame.  No 
power  could  compel  the  unerring  minister  to  relax  his 
grasp;  the  tender  care,  and  mournful  anxiety  of  a  pa- 
rent could  not  avail  ;  the  sympathy  of  friendship  was  in 
Tain  ;  and  earthly  skill  and  science  could  not  crush  his 
stern  inveteracy. 

In  the  innumerable  ways,  in  which  death  visits  man- 
kind, there  is  none  more  trying  to  the  heart,  or  which 
requires  a  greater  share  of  fortitude,  than  that  which 
attacked  our  lamented  Smith.  It  is  a  scourge,  which 
clothes  our  land  in  continual  mourning,  and  sweeps  from 
it  its  pride  and  ornament.  Youth,  beauty  and  genius 
seem  its  peculiar  victims.  The  gay  votary  of  the  world 
pursues  the  unvaried  course  ofdissipation,  little  suspect- 
ing, while  surrounded  by  taste  and  fashion,  that  the  de- 
stroyer lurks  within  him ;  that  soon,  the  rose  which 
blossoms  on  his  cheek,  will  be  exchanged  for  the  hectic 
flush,  and  the  eye,  which  sparkles  most  when  nearest 
to  the  grave,  denote  that  his  period  of  existence  is  fast 
closing.  For  the  monster  comes  in  secresy,  while  the 
bloom  is  yet  upon  the  countenance,  and  the  flash  of  mer- 
riment brightens  the  features.     He  creeps  into  the  warjii 


trurrent  of  lil'e,  unnerves  the  strength  of  manhood,  and 
blights  the  dazzhng  parade  of  grace  and  elegance. 

The  student  consumes  the  day  with  laborious  appli- 
cation, and  suffers  the  hour  of  midnight  to  find  him,  still 
bending  over  the  page  of  science.  Deluded  man  !  Does 
not  experience  leil  him,  that  it  is  a  fearful  thing  to 
plunge  into  the  mybteries  of  wisdom ;  that  the  price, 
which  must  be  paid  for  the  lost  hour  of  rest,  is  terrible ; 
and  that  there  is  a  barrier  to  literary  eminence,  which 
few  can  pass  ?  Already  does  the  emaciated  form,  the  wan 
and  sunken  countenance,  and  the  thin  bloodless  lip, 
proclaim,  that  the  silent  enemy  has  visited  him  ;  that 
the  lamp,  which  lights  him  to  his  doom,  must  shortly  be 
extinguished,  and  the  eye,  which  seeks  to  penetrate  the 
recesses  of  philosophy,  be  glazed  with  death.  Why 
does  he  pursue,  so  ardently,  a  road  that  has  no  end,  and, 
in  which,  although  he  may  advance  beyond  the  farthest 
limits,  that  have  as  yet  bounded  the  researches  of  the 
human  mind,  still  there  will  be  before  him  an  immeasur- 
able distance.  He  should  know,  that  it  is  suicide,  thus 
to  abuse  the  powers  which  God  has  given  him  ;  and 
should  be  content  with  the  acquisition  of  that  share  of 
knowledge,  which  lies  within  his  strength. 

Among  the  variety  of  diseases  to  which  the  human 
form  is  incident,  it  is  this,  which  calls  most  for  energy 
and  courage. 

In  battle,  man  may  viev\  the  mangled  heaps  of  his 
fellow  beings,  may  see  the  mutilated  wretch  writhing 
in  agony,  may  hear  the  groan  which  marks  protracted 
suffering;  and  yet  meet  death  with  unconcern.  For  in 
that  hour,  when  the  blood  boils  with  madness,  and  the 
soul  is  wrapt  in  lire,  the  love  of  country,  the  thirst  for 
military  fame,  the  disgrace  and  infamy  which  attend  the 
recreant,  and  the  blaze  of  glory,  which  flashes  from  the 
crimsoned  couch  of  the  hero,  all  combine  to  render  it 
indifferent. 

In  the  pestilence,  which  hurls  its  victim  to  eternity, 
before  the  quivering  lip  can  confess  the  pangs,  which 
rend  the  convulsed  and  bloated  frame;  in  «he  delirium 
of  fever,  when  the  burning  brow  throbs  with  anguish, 
and  the  wild,  glaring  eye,  knows  not  on  whom  it  gazes ; 
the  sufferer  sinks  comparatively  happy.  For  he  sees  not 
the  affliction  of  those,   who  watch  his  dying  agonies. 


But  in  the  slow,  deadly  consumption,  when  he  sees  thai 
he  is  sinking,  gasp,  by  gasp;  when  eac|>  sucessive  day 
finds  him  still  more  debilitated  ;  when  the  solicitous  in- 
quiries of  alarmed  connexions,  continually  torture  and 
harass  him  ;  when  he  feels,  that  he  is  gradually  leaving 
them,  and  that  all  his  brightning  prospects,  his  plans  for 
future  eminence,  and  his  hopes  of  earthly  happiness  are 
soon  to  be  buried  in  the  sleep  of  death ;  Oh  it  well 
requires  such  fortitude,  as  the  noble  Smith  possessed,  to 
meet  this  host  of  painful  circumstances  ! 

In  a  thousand  shapes,  and  on  all  animated  beings^ 
does  the  angel  of  dissolution  exercise  his  irresistible  do- 
minion. Decrepitude  and  infancy  are  alike  his  subjects. 
Ai  his  approach,  the  prattling  child  falls  trom  the  breast 
of  the  mothtT,  and  the  hoary- headed  veteran  drops  from 
his  crutches.  Youth,  blooming  youth,  is  not  exempt 
from  his  unrelenting  mandate  ;  but,  in  the  morning  of 
existence,  it  comes  5  when  all  is  sunshine,  when  the 
heavens  beam  pleasantness,  and  the  world  is  strewed 
with  flowers,  when  the  miseries  of  life  appear  the  fa- 
bled offspring  of  the  misanthrope,  and  when  treachery, 
ingratitude,  and  the  long  list  of  vice  ,  which  degrade 
the  image  of  the  Deity,  seem  visionary  tales,  wrung  in 
a  dark  hour,  from  the  gloomy,  soured  ascetic. 

It  is  a  blessed  period  in  the  age  of  man,  when  he 
can  look  without  suspicion  on  his  fellow-mortals,  before 
experience  has  revealed  their  frailties,  or  disappointment 
made  him  loathe  their  society ;  when  earth  appears  a 
lovely  paradise,  crowded  with  cheerful  hopes  and  flat- 
tering prospects  ;  when  the  wreath  of  honour  and  im- 
mortality seems  of  easy  acquisition,  and  all  nature 
offers  inexhaustible  resources  of  enjoyment.  Alas,  that, 
in  the  midst  of  this  enchanting  dream,  he  should  be  hur- 
ried to  the  tomb;  that  when  surrounded  by  all  that  is 
affectionate  and  friendly,  by  all  that  makes  life  dear  to 
him,  he  should  receive  the  dreadful  summons ;  that 
when  he  scarce  has  lived,  he  should  be  called  upon  to 
die. 

The  man,  whose  silver  hairs  and  bended  form  an- 
nounce the  extremity  of  age,  may  view,  with  calm  se- 
renity, the  approach  of  the  destroyer.  If  his  life  ha& 
been  a  life  of  virtue,  if  he  fears  not  to  appear  at  the  judg- 
ment seat  of  his  Maker,  can  he  wish  to  linger  in  thi& 


9 

poor  world,  where  all  are  strangers  to  him  ?  can  he  wish 
to  protract  those  years,  which  will  bring  him  no  return 
of  happiness,  when,  alone  and  unfriended,  he  totters 
with  infirmity,  and  looks  in  vain  for  joy  or  consolation  ? 
No !  Death  is  a  kind  deliverer.  The  bonds,  which 
hold  the  human  mind  to  earth,  with  him,  are  broken  ; 
the  voice  of  affection  has  long  been  sunk  in  silence  ;  and 
those,  with  whom  his  heart  once  beat  with  love  and 
sympathy,  have  mouldered  in  the  grave.  He  stands 
like  an  aged  tree,  from  whose  trunk,  lime  has  succes- 
sively rent  the  withered  branches.  Society  can  have 
no  charms  for  him  :  the  cheerfulness  of  youth  reminds 
him  of  his  loss,  and  the  feelings  of  kindness,  which  oth- 
ers interchange,  show  him  his  own  dreary  and  desolate 
condition.  The  beauties  of  nature  may  unfold  them- 
selves before  him  ;  the  bird  may  carol,  the  floweret 
may  blossom,  but  to  him  the  earth  is  a  wide  deserted 
waste  ;  it  covers  the  companions  of  his  youth,  it  hides 
the  friends  of  his  bosom.  One  by  one,  they  have  left 
him,  and  he  has  moistened  their  burial  turf  with  the 
tear  of  anguish.  To  him,  the  grave  is  a  welcome  home  ; 
it  offers  his  grey  head  eternal  rest ;  it  tells  him,  that 
there,  all  trouble  ceases  ;  that  the  follies  of  the  world 
must  stop  at  its  threshold  ;  that  there,  ambition,  vanity, 
power  and  beauty,  all  find  a  resting  place;  that  the 
monarch  and  the  vassal,  the  master  and  the  slave,  the 
christian  and  the  infidel,  the  noble-minded,  the  debased, 
the  brave  and  the  fearful,  must  all  become  its  inhabit- 
ants. 

But,  how  different  the  case,  when  the  grim  tyrant 
calls  on  one,  who  is  wrapt  in  all  the  endearing  ties, 
which  can  bind  the  young  and  virtuous  heart  to  exist- 
ence ?  When  the  victim,  stretched  in  the  last  pangs  of 
ti  protracted  illness,  beholds  the  expressive  sorrow  of 
surrounding  friends  ;  finds  his  least  want  anticipated, 
and  all  the  tender  assiduities,  which  a  hoping  parent 
can  bestow,  offered  to  alleviate  distress.  It  must  be 
agonizing,  to  have  the  pillow  of  the  death- bed  smoothed 
by  those,  who  would  willingly  repose  on  it;  to  hear  the 
half-stifled  groan,  which  tells  him  that  his  loss  will 
make  them  wretched  ;  to  see  the  deep  affliction  of  those 
who  arc  dearest  to  his  heart ;  and  to  feel  the  trembling 
hand  of  affection,  wiping  the  cold  d^alh-dew  from  tlie 
2 


10 

forehead  ;  to  know,  that  the  stroke,  which  ushers  him 
to  eternity,  is  to  overwhehn  with  grief  aN  that  he  most 
loves,  is  to  destroy  the  hopes,  upon  which  their  hap- 
piness is  founded,  and  burden  their  remaining  years  of 
life,  with  bitter  sorrow  and  lamentation. 

Our  departed  Smith  was  young  and  virtuous.  He  was 
the  hope  of  a  fond  mother,  and  the  pride  of  an  extensive 
circle  of  affectionate  relatives.  In  the  long,  tedious 
sickness,  which  preceded  his  decease,  no  complaint  es- 
caped him,  which  could  show  the  anguish  of  his  mind,  at 
the  idea  that  he  was  soon  to  abandon  them.  He  con- 
cealed within  himself  every  thing  which  he  thought 
might  add  to  their  affliction.  For  a  time,  he  did  no!  dis- 
close the  symptoms,  which  he  feared  foretold  a  fatal 
termination,  but  endeavoured  to  impress  the  belief  upon 
his  friends  that  he  should  soon  recover.  Delusive  hope  ! 
The  hand  of  death  was  upon  him.  His  increased  de- 
bility constrained  him  to  relinquish  his  classical  pur- 
suits, and  retire  to  his  family.  But  it  was  too  late  ;  no 
earthly  power  could  save  him,  for  the  bloom  of  health 
had  fled  from  his  cheek  for  ever.  He  lingered  until  the 
commencement  of  our  last  collegiate  vacation.  He 
then  saw  his  companions,  joyfully  throw  off  the  re- 
straints and  privations,  necessarily  attendant  on 
academic  retirement;  and,  bounding  in  the  elasticity 
of  health  and  vigour,  about  to  seek  a  temporary  repose, 
in  the  bosom  of  family  and  friends.  He  turned  to  him- 
self. Oh,  what  a  fearful  change,  a  few  short  months 
had  wrought  on  him.  The  hopes,  the  spirit,  the  flush 
of  youth  had  departed.  Feeble,  emaciated  and  broken, 
he  knew,  that  his  long  home  was  soon  to  welcome  him  ; 
he  knew,  that  he  had  heard  the  last  farewell  of  those 
who  loved  him ;  that  when  they  again  returned,  his  ears 
would  be  deaf  to  their  inquiries  ;  his  eyelids  would  be 
sealed  ;  the  shroud  would  enwrap  his  worn  and  wasted 
form.  He  knew,  that  the  hope  of  a  family  was  sinking  ; 
that  the  widowed  mother  was  about  to  lose  her  only 
child.  Yet  he  repined  not.  The  will  of  heaven  was, 
with  him,  too  sacred  to  meet  with  reprehension ;  he 
bowed,  with  patience  and  humility,  to  the  impending 
blow ;  he  feared  not  to  resign  his  soul  to  the  justice  of 
his  God.  The  night  of  that  day  on  which  his  fellow-stu- 
lients  left  him,  the  noble-hearted  Smith  expired. 


il 

How  useful,  how  instructive,  was  his  short  career! 
From  the  lime,  when  he  tottered  round  the  cradle,  to 
the  day  which  saw  him  extended  on  the  hearse,  his  life 
was  one  continued  scene  of  virtue  and  morality. 

The  days  of  his  boyhood  were  characterized  with 
qualities,  which  seldom  attend  that  age  of  vivacity. 
The  amusements,  in  which  he  cheerfully  partook,  were 
never  marred  with  altercation  ;  for  his  mildness  checked 
the  burst  of  passion  in  his  youthful  comrades,  and  his 
manly  conduct  acquired  their  esteem  and  veneration. 
They  assiduously  courted  his  approbation,  and  regard- 
ed him  as  a  pattern  of  excellence,  which  it  should  be 
their  pride  to  imitate. 

To  those,  who  were  acquainted  with  him,  when  he 
was  verging  on  manhood,  it  may  be  useless  to  mention 
his  virtues  or  his  talents,  for  they  must  already  be  well 
known. 

The  God  of  nature  had  given  him  a  mind  clear,  ener- 
getic and  penetrating,  and  with  industrious  application, 
he  had  strengthened  it  with  sound  knowledge,  and  embel- 
lished it  with  works  of  fancy.  His  manners  were  polish- 
ed and  free  from  affectation.  His  conversation  was  live- 
ly, interesting  and  instructive.  Possessing  distinguish- 
ed talents,  without  pride,  and  genius,  without  its  eccen- 
tricities, he  rose,  apparently  with  little  exertion,  above 
the  reach  of  comparison.  His  suavity  crushed  all  envi- 
ous feelings,  which  could  arise  from  his  superiority ;  and 
those  who  could  not  equal,  were  obliged  to  love  him. 
His  disposition  was  mild,  open  and  generous ;  anger 
never  distorted  his  features,  but  the  affable  and  refined 
feelings  of  his  heart  always  beamed  on  his  counte- 
nance. He  was  invulnerable  to  the  allurements  which 
vice  employs,  to  seduce  and  bewilder  youth,  and  with 
virtuous  abhorrence,  he  scorned  her  blandishments,  and 
despised  her  votaries, 

in  the  relations  of  social  life,  he  was  kind,  dutiful  and 
attentive.  In  fact,  every  thing  which  constitutes  the  af- 
fectionate son  and  the  faithful  friend,  the  gentleman 
and  the  scholar,  was  combined  in  the  character  of 
Henry  Smith. 

The  death  of  this  accomplished,  this  amiable  young 
man,  should  deeply  impress  all  those  who  knew  him. 
It  is  a  melancholy  instance,  added  to  the  many  which 


12 

we  constantly  behold,  of  the  instability  of  worldly  hap- 
piness, and  the  uncertainty  of  human  life.  It  is  strange, 
that  man,  with  such  proofs  always  before  him,  should 
still  continue  the  ceaseless  search  for  power  or  opulence. 
But  such  is  his  nature.  To-day,  the  conqueror  waves 
the  blood-stained  sword,  and  the  tyrant  scourges  his 
fellow-reptiles.  But  soon,  the  oppressed  will  find  re- 
lief; the  slave  will  have  his  hour  of  vengeance  ;  for  the 
guilty  great  must  perish  equally  with  those  on  whom 
they  trample.     Vain  is  all  precaution. 

^'  Pallida  mors  aequo  pulsat  pede  pauperum  tabernas, 
Regumque  turres.'* 

The  Gallic  Monarch*  could  not  bear  to  view  the  tombs 
of  his  ancestors,  because  they  reminded  him  of  his  own 
mortality.  He  chose  his  place  of  residence,  where  the 
hated  dome,  which  rose  over  their  crumbling  ruins, 
should  not  for  ever  preach  to  him,  how  trifling  and  ephe- 
meral was  his  glory.  He  forbade  the  name  of  death  to 
be  mentioned  in  his  presence  ;  for  he  could  not  think, 
that  he  was  made  like  the  frail  beings  who  fell  around 
him.  Mistaken  mortal !  Did  he  suppose,  that  his  ap- 
prehensions would  retard  its  march  ;  that  all  his  bril- 
liant conquests  could  prolong  his  life  a  day,  and  that 
the  leveller  of  human  pride  could  not  reach  him,  in  his 
lurretted  mansion  ?  He  found,  at  last,  that  death  knew 
no  impediment.  Many  years  have  vanished  since  he 
mouldered  with  those,  who  flattered  him  with  immortal- 
ity. 

It  is  a  solemn  thought,  that  in  a  few  fleeting  years, 
there  will  be  not  one  remaining,  of  the  busy  myriads, 
which  now  throng  this  earth.  Another  generation,  an- 
other race,  will  fill  the  places  of  the  insects,  who  are 
fluttering  after  wealth  and  honour.  The  glory  of  iho 
very  nation,  of  which  we  are  but  particles,  will  depend 
on  the  historian.  Our  manners,  our  venerated  customs, 
will  become  objects  of  mockery  and  ridicule  ;  and  we, 
who  arrogate  to  ourselves,  the  perfection  of  elegance 
and  urbanity,  will  be  styled  barbarians.  Yes,  when 
the  grave- stone,  which  marks  the  place  where  we  are 
bleeping,  shall  have  fallen,  and  the  little  heap  of  earth. 

*  Louis  the  Fourtcentk 


13 

which  rises  over  us,  shall  be  levelled,  the  proud  stran- 
ger will  trample  on  our  ashes,  as  careless,  as  indiffer- 
ent, as  we  are,  with  regard  to  those,  who  lived  the  age 
before  us.  It  is  humbling  to  know,  that  we  shall  be  for- 
gotten ;  that  those  who  mourn  for  us,  soon  must  follow  ; 
and  that  others  will  occupy  the  stations,  we  now  hold, 
who  will  be  ignorant,  that  we  ever  existed. 

Let  him,  who  is  tormented  with  ambition,  visit  the 
solitary  grave-yard  ;  let  him  wander  amidst  the  lowly 
dwellings  of  the  dead,  and  meditate  upon  the  glory, 
which  all  his  cares  and  vexations  are  to  bring  him. 
Will  the  honour  of  the  world  then  appear  to  him, 
tbe  grand  aim  of  life,  and  will  he  leave  that  mournful 
place,  eager  for  its  plaudits  ?  No  !  He  will  be  humbled. 
For  there,  the  passions  must  cool ;  the  thirst  of  fame 
must  vanish  ;  man  must  lay  aside  all  vain  and  idle 
speculations,  It  will  tell  him,  that  there,  is  no  distinc- 
tion ;  that  the  idiot  sleeps  as  quietly  as  the  philosopher, 
and  the  serf  requires  as  much  extent  of  ground  as  his 
crested  master.  Oh,  it  is  melancholy  to  view  the  me- 
morials, which  chequer  that  lonely  spot,  and  which  af- 
fection has  reared,  to  prolong,  for  a  little  time,  the  char- 
acter of  a  friend  or  relative ;  to  read  their  various  in- 
scriptions, denoting  that  infancy,  youth  and  age  are 
there  assembled ;  and  to  behold  the  fresh-laid  turf, 
which  announces  a  new  inhabitant ;  while  on  the  ad- 
joining tomb-sione,  time  has  obliterated  even  the  en- 
graven letters,  which  were  intended  to  perpetuate  the 
name  and  actions  of  the  poor  mortal,  who  has  decayed 
beneath  it !  This  sad,  yet  interesting  place,  imparts 
consolation,  which  can  no  where  else  be  found.  Who, 
while  lingering  there,  does  not  feel  a  religious  hope 
thrill  through  his  breast,  and  a  comtemptuous  aversion 
for  the  foibles  of  the  world !  And  who,  on  leaving  it, 
does  not  resolve  to  act  that  part  through  life,  which  will 
enable  him  to  revisit  it  with  jcy  and  safety  ? 

Go,  then,  go  to  the  spot,  where  the  youthful  Smith  re- 
poses. One  glance  at  the  little  hillock  will  give  you 
more  instruction,  than  the  volume  of  the  moralist.  It 
will  tell  you,  that  soon  for  i/om,  will  be  performed  the 
last  solemnities  of  nature  ;  that  soon,  the  funeral  proces- 
sion  will  attend  you  to  your  narrow  bed,  and  the  cold 
turf  arise  over  your  pallid  and  senseless  form.     It  will 


14 

remind  you  of  the  inestimable  virtues  of  its  possessor, 
and  b}  exciting  you  to  emulate  them,  will  at  last,  pre- 
pare you  to  meet  the  dreaded  foe,  with  his  tranquillity 
and  resignation. 

With  those,  who  have  been  bereaved  of  an  affection- 
ate relative,  we  sincerely  sympathize.  The  ornament  of 
their  circle,  the  joy  of  their  fireside,  has  been  wrested 
from  them,  when  the  chain,  which  bound  him  to  them, 
was  the  most  strongly  rivetted.  But  Avhy  should  they 
lament  ?  Why  should  the  mother  weep  for  her  son,  when 
God  has  taken  him,  when,  with  a  heart  free  from  de- 
pravity, he  left  this  abode  of  wretchedness,  to  become 
an  inmate  of  that  happy  country,  where  misery  is  a 
stranger  ;  where  the  angel  of  death  can  never  enter  ? 

Respected  Instructors, 

To  you,  who  watch,  with  parental  care,  over  those 
who  are  intrusted  to  your  nurture  and  instruction,  pain- 
ful must  it  be,  to  behold  the  blank,  which  death  has 
made  in  our  family.  You  must  lament  the  loss  of 
one,  who  has  bui  recently  enrolled  himself  under  your 
protection,  when  you  have  not  had  time  to  learn  his 
character  or  to  appreciate  his  talents.  But  much  great- 
er must  be  your  grief,  when  you  are  robbed  of  him,  who, 
for  a  long  time,  has  been  your  pupil  in  science,  who  has 
carefully  received  the  treasures,  which  you  have  offered 
him,  and  has  given  fair  promise  of  future  brilliancy  and 
usefulness. 

You  saw,  with  joy,  the  rising  powers  of  the  youthful 
Smith.  You  saw  them,  daily  expanding  under  your  di- 
rection, and  hailed  them  as  ornaments,  which  were  to 
honour  and  adorn  this  Institution.  You  beheld  biro, 
about  to  enter  on  the  world,  eririched  with  knowledge 
and  glowing  with  virtue.  You  knew,  that  while  his  su- 
periour  abilities  would  entitle  him  to  the  respect  and 
attention  of  those,  wFao  revvaid  and  distinguish  merit ; 
that  his  generous  character,  his  mild  and  endearing  tem- 
per, would  screen  him  from  the  sneer  of  malice  or  the 
detraction  of  envy ;  that  he  was  calculated  to  rise  in 
the  estimation  of  all;  that  those,  who  saw,  must  be  at- 
tached to  him,  and  that  any  one,  who  knew,  and  yet 
could  harbour  feelings  inimical  to  him,  would  be  desti- 
tute of  every  thing,  which  characterizes  the  man  and 


l£r 

the  christian.  But,  no  sooner  was  his  mind  matured, 
his  understanding  disciplined,  and  those  qualities  about 
to  be  shown  to  many,  which  hitherto  had  charmed  and 
delighted  a  selected  few,  than  he  was  taken  from  you, 
to  the  more  immediate  protection  of  his  Heavenly  Fa- 
ther. For  if,  as  you  have  taught  us,  goodness  is  re- 
warded, if  the  worthy  are  recompensed  for  the  actions 
they  have  done  on  earth,  he  has  now  taken  his  eternal 
residence,  where  worldly  knowledge  appears  of  little 
value,  where  more  is  disclosed,  in  one  short  moment, 
than  can  be  reached,  even  from  the  proudest  heights  of 
human  philosophy,  but,  where  he  still  remembers  those, 
whose  wisdom  and  instruction,  made  the  days  of  his  ex- 
istence happy,  nnd  the  example  and  imitation  of  whose 
piety,  enabled  him  to  meet  his  God  in  peace. 

Classmates, 

During  our  collegiate  life,  we  have  twice  assembled 
in  this  place,  to  pay  the  la^t  sad  tribute  of  respect  to  a 
departed  brother.  We  had  scarcely  formed  our  alli- 
ance, scarcely  commenced  our  literary  labours, 
when  one*  was  taken  from  ns.  We  had  hoped,  that 
death  was  then  satisfied,  and  that  we  should  not  again 
be  visited.  We  had  hoped,  that  the  tear  of  sorrow  was 
suppressed,  never  again  to  burst  forth;  that  the  badge 
of  grief  was  thrown  aside,  never  to  be  resumed  ;  that 
the  few  remaining  days  we  were  to  spend  together, 
would  not  be  clouded  with  affliction  ;  and  that  when 
the  time  of  separation  arrived,  we  should  find  our  number 
undiminished.  Heaven  has  otherwise  ordained,  and  it 
is  our  duty,  to  bow  to  its  wise  decrees  with  submission. 

We  flattered  ourselves,  that  time  would  check  the  dis- 
ease, which  attacked  our  beloved  companion  ;  that  soon 
he  would  rejoin  us,  and  again  mingle  in  our  studies  and 
amusements.  We  had  long  been  united,  and  we  hoped 
that  the  friendship  we  had  contracted  in  youth,  would 
cheer  and  solace  us  in  manhood  ;  that,  although  we  left 
him  feeble  and  dejected,  we  should,  when  we  returned, 
find  him  blooming  in  activity  and  beauty.  With  hopes, 
with  promises  like  these,  we,  for  a  few  weeks,  separated. 

We  met  again,  in  health,  but  not  in  gladness  ;  there 
wa?  one  missing,  and  for  him,  we  looked  in  vain.     His 

*  Nfr.  Ezra  Baity,  who  died  October  7th,  1818. 


16 

seat' was  empty  ;  his  room  was  desolate;  the  book  of 
science  lay  on  his  shelf  unopened.  And  where  was  the 
hand,  whose  cordial  grasp  had  always  bid  us  wel- 
come ?  Where  was  he,  who  was  always  first  to  greet  us  ? 
Why  did  he  linger  ?  Had  he  forgottten  those  who  were  so 
dear  to  him  ?  Could  the  short  period,  we  had  been 
absent,  estrange  a  heart  so  noble  and  so  tender  ?  Alas  ! 
The  sun  that  rose  on  our  return,  gleamed  on  his  grave  : 
that  hand  was  cold  and  stiff;  that  heart  had  ceased  to 
beat.  Was  it  not  fiction  ?  Could  it  be,  that  he,  who  was 
our  pride  ;  that  he,  whose  wisdom  charmed,  and  whose 
wit  enlivened,  was  never  more  to  gladden  our  social  cir- 
cle ?   We  found,  that  it  was  a  sad  reality. 

He  has  departed,  but  he  has  left  us  an  invalu- 
able legacy. — It  is  the  picture  of  his  life;  the  example 
of  his  virtues.  We  should  receive  it  with  veneration  ; 
we  should  cherish  it  with  lasting  affection. 

The  hour,  which  is  to  sever  the  bond,  which  encircles 
us,  is  fast  approaching.  In  a  little  time,  we  shall  be 
scattered,  and  other  scenes,  and  other  attachments,  will 
call  for  a  share  of  our  attention.  But  forgetfulness  never 
shall  rise  on  the  sod,  which  covers  the  remains  of  our 
amiable  classmate.  Often  shall  reflection  bring  him  to 
remembrance.  Often  shall  the  tear  of  sensibility  flow, 
at  the  recollection  of  his  manly,  yet  unassumed  de- 
portment; of  his  dignified,  yet  artless  simplicity. 

Wherever  fate  shall  hereafter  disperse  us  ;  in  whatever 
situation  it  may  place  us,  we  will  remember  him  ;  we  will 
keep  him  buried  in  our  hearts  ;  we  will  endeavour  to  im- 
itate his  character.  That  at  last,  when  all  is  finished  : 
when  the  dead  are  summoned,  and  the  archangel's 
voice  announces  the  day  of  retribution,  we  may  arise, 
with  joy  and  gratitude  ;  and  in  firm  expectation  of  the 
reward  of  virtue,  we  may  all  meet  together,  a  band  of 
brothers,  at  the  throne  of  the  Almighty. 


GAYLAMOUNT 

PAMPHLET  BINDER 

Manu/adureJ  Ay 

iSAYLORD  BROS.  Iik. 

Syr«cuf»,  N.  Y. 

Stockton,  Calif. 


YC  29638 


M5ai088 


